


A new place.

by Thehedgehogat221b



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Historical, Historical References, Slow Burn, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehedgehogat221b/pseuds/Thehedgehogat221b
Summary: Evangeline has it tough, so with war brewing, she cuts her hair and assumes a new name: Evan Thomas.Pretending a man has its own problems, let alone a solider.Can she keep up the facade or will she be discovered?
Relationships: Richard Sharpe/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

prologue  
There's a war, far across the sea, in a place I've never been, men, fighting and dying because they believe in protecting our country.  
And here I am, sat at home, cross stitching little flowers or knitting a blanket.  
My name is Evangeline Higgs, I was born in 1789, in New Delhi, India.  
My mother, Adelaide, died giving birth to me. I don't think my father, Thomas ever quite got over it, not that he ever showed it, he never made me feel guilty for causing her death, he always looked after me, I wanted for nothing.  
Then, he passed, when I was eleven years old, everyone will tell you it was by taking to much of the medicine the doctors gave him for a bad back. But, I know deep down, it wasn't a acident, He had never gotten over Mother, he had died along with her, all those years ago.  
It was then, I was uprooted from India, from my friends, my home, my books, to my Grandparents estate in Scotland, a very different location.  
They despised me, from the moment I stepped foot on Glasgow docks, I was a prisoner, they were my Mother's parents, they hated my father for moving their daughter to India, to live on a cotton plantation.  
Lord and Lady Cabot, made sure that from that moment on I would not have the happy life I had with father.  
They punished me whenever I did anything they disliked, it started small, a cane to the fingers, then, it escalated, whippings, that have left me scared for life.  
At seventeen, I was married off, Charles Bagby, Ten years my senior.  
His family was well off, had land and coal mines, Once again, I was uprooted, from Glasgow to North Wales, The Bagby's were Scottish born, but people move where the money is.  
Wales was worse than Scotland, Not the place, but the prison.  
Bagby was okay at first, When we were first married, it wasn't until almost two years since the wedding when everything changed, I found out I was with child shortly after my eighteenth birthday, Bagby was over the moon, a heir to his fortune.  
But then, the change happened, I lost the child, I was heartbroken, naturally, but so much worse was to come.  
Bagby locked me in my room, only allowing a small gap in the door to pass me food and drink, Once a week, he would allow maids into the room, to change the bed covers and bathe me.  
His excuse for my mistreatment was that the loss of our child had driven me mad.  
I had my books, I had my journal, In that sense I wasn't alone, from the window of my room, I could see the sea, smell the salt on the air, hear the seagulls.  
Many times the thought of jumping out crossed my mind, the idea that my life sentence could be over, I had awoken from my sleep sometimes, in a cold sweat because I dreamt I had gone through the window and crossed over.  
Beatings and rape had become a daily occurrence, I became numb to the pain, I plotted my escape, everyday, I imagined being free.  
One night, after Bagby had been drinking, he came to my room and dragged me from my bed, We fought, somehow in the chaos, he ended up smashing his head on the fireplace.  
At the time I was uncertain if he had died, I found out later, he had, But I left, I raided the house safe, taking the money that by rights was mine as it came from my Grandparents and my fathers pocket watch, I left in the middle of the night, vowing never to return.  
While staying in a small town a few miles away from the estate, I heard talk about soldiers coming to recruit for the war.  
A rather impulsive idea came to me, what better place for me to hide but in the army? Amongst other faceless men, but of course, There was the problem of I of course not being a man.  
So I cut my hair,dressed in men's clothes and joined the volunteers, with a few coins the doctor sent to deem if the recruits were fit for duty ignored what was absent between my legs.  
My name is now Evan Thomas, the year is 1810 and I'm about to fight the french.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan gets her first taste of a soldiers life.

Thomas...you don't sound very Welsh.." The man marching next to me suddenly addresses me.  
"I was born in London," I respond, surprised at the sudden interaction "My father is welsh."  
Over the few months since I joined the Kings Army, I have created a whole new identity for myself, Evan Joseph Thomas, Born in London to a Welsh buisness man, I'm twenty one years old, I didn't see the point in changing my age. The only thing aside from the name and clothes I've had to work on is my voice, lowering it enough that I don't sound like a child.  
The man next to me is a little bit older, Mid-thirties, His name is Jones.  
"You can read and write, can't you?"  
I nod  
"Thats better than most." He gives me a look that feels like he's gazing into my very soul "What made you join?"  
"I'd rather die on a battlefield than die at home."  
"You didn't just sign on for the money?"  
I laugh "It didn't sour the idea thats for certain." I look over at him "And yourself?"   
"I've always wanted to see the world...this seems the only way to do it."  
The men in front of us stop, we follow suit, the Sargent Commander walks up to us  
"Thomas...Jones...Having a good chat are we?"  
I see Jones tense, Sargent Commander Mitchell tends to hand out punishment as if they were cream cakes.  
He dislikes it when I take his beatings without a sound.  
"We weren't aware we had to walk in silence, sir." I reply, His gaze shifts to me   
"I didn't tell you to speak, Thomas."  
"You asked a question, it seemed rude to leave it unanswered."   
In a quick movement Mitchell knees me in the gut, I sink to the dirt and cough  
"Terribly sorry, Sir, We'll remain quiet."  
Mitchell nods and walks back to the front, He barks the order to start moving.  
"You're a mad bugger, ya know that?" Jones almost laughs as I get to my feet  
"You have no idea." I catch my breath,  
I'm mad enough to bribe my way into this hell hole.   
Yet, I seem to excel, I hit my target with my rifle every time, I can carry heavy packs.  
The only thing I can't do is take abuse from the officers, As a man, oddly enough all I get is a punch or kick, no nonsense about how I should act like a lady or show some respect.  
Being a man is freeing, I can do as I wish.  
Not to mention the clothes are far easier to move in, I have to bind my breasts, as to not give me away but even that isn't as uncomfortable as a corset or stay.  
Not to mention comfy boots.  
My hair used to be reach to my lower back, it would become a tangled mass of chestnut curls if I didn't plait it before bed, now it just touches my shoulders and I often wear it tied back with a red ribbon.   
I stare at the back of the head of the man in front of me, ignoring the stinging in my gut, There's going to be a bruise there soon.   
The walk was silent from there on, aside from the sounds of boots on the dirt, it isn't long until I can smell smoke in the air.  
We go around a bend in the path and in a open field is the camp, littered with white tents and canons.  
I can smell horses in the air, I smile, remembering the horses Father had at home, I often wonder what he thinks of all this, along with Mother if indeed they are watching me from above.  
This is home now, I haven't even sat down, but it already feels safer than Wales.  
Strange, a battlefield feeling safer than my home.  
We walk into the camp, Where we are finally allowed to stand at ease.  
"Go, find your tents."   
I let out a sigh, time to see my new home.  
The tent is small, the bed is barely off the ground, a cot more than anything, stretched leather over wood, with a thin blanket and a straw stuffed pillow.  
I take off my pack and sit on the cot, it strains under my weight, I take off my hat and set it next to me, I take off my jacket, and look around, There's light coming through the thin cotton tent, making everything look ethereal, Outside, I can the distant sound of men barking orders.  
I open my pack and pull out my own blanket, wool and a dark blue, I bought it the first night I stayed in the village I escaped too, its soft and warm, A reminder of how I started this journey.  
I then reach in and pull out my journal, I realise that its quite silly to keep a notebook that outs me as a woman, that contains all of my deepest secrets, all it would take is someone reading it and it would be the hangman's noose or the firing squad for me, but I need something to express my thoughts too, no human around me would understand.   
Jones is a nice man, A good man, but even he, would possibly recoil if I revealed to him my true self.   
Not that I would blame him, according to the snippets of newspapers I read after Bagby was found dead, the police seem concerned about his 'Mad' wife who escaped the manor.  
Theories I've heard are between the wife, of course, being the killer herself or the more popular one, that the wife was kidnapped by thieves.   
I lie back on the cot, closing my eyes, I must have dozed off, the next thing I know is Mitchell is barking at me through the opening to my tent.  
"Thomas, pack up."  
I sit up, barely awake  
"Yes sir..May I ask why sir?"  
"You're being transferred."  
I frown, why am I moving regiments? Have I done something wrong?  
I pack up my blanket and books, I put on my jacket and hastily put on my pack.  
Outside my tent, in the orange glow of the setting sun, Mitchell is stood with another man, dressed in darker clothes than I, with a green jacket and black hat.  
"This is the man you told me about?" he asks Mitchell, he has a distinctive Irish accent "He's barely older than a boy."  
"Be that true, He is a excellent shot, Sargent." Mitchell seems to hate complimenting me as if the words burn his tongue.  
"Thomas, this is Sargent Major Harper."  
I salute "Sir..pleasure, sir."   
"Whats your first name, Son?"  
"Evan sir."  
"First time in the army?"  
"Yes sir."  
I feel uneasy, why is a Sargent Major asking me all these questions? Hell, why is a Sargent Major even aware of me?  
"Are you good with your rifle?"  
"Top of the regiment, sir."  
The Sargent Major laughs "Modest too, I see."   
"Sirs, May I know why you wanted me?"  
"Sargent Major Harper needs new men for the 58th rifles." Mitchell responds "I put your name forward."  
"Thank you Sir."  
"Perhaps he can whip you into shape."  
And there it is, the but, Mitchell isn't doing this because he believes I'm fit for the job, he's doing it because he wants rid of me.  
"He seems polite enough." Sargent Major Harper comments   
"Just wait until you try to get him to follow orders, your mind will change." Mitchell nods at Harper and turns "If you'll excuse me I have other matters to attend too."  
He walks away and Harper begins to walk, I follow behind him, Surprised he didn't order me.  
"I assure you sir, I can follow orders."  
Harper chuckles "Just not his, eh?"  
"He is quite quick with the punishment, sir." I pause "And not always to those who deserved it."  
"So you took it so others didn't?" He turns his head over his shoulder "Quite noble."   
"If you say so sir, the other men preferred stupid."   
"I never said you weren't stupid.." Harper laughs "I haven't decided on that part yet."   
I don't say anything, Unsure how to respond.   
"You know lad, You're joining a special crew here, not just a run of the mill regiment." He pauses "Hope you can keep up."  
"I can try, sir."  
Why me? Of all the regiments under the kings banner I have to join a small squad...it'll be harder to blend in here, harder to hide.  
"And here they are." Harper stops in front of a tent, a fire is burning, Men are sat around chatting, one seems engaged in a book.  
"Men, Meet the new recruit."  
I scan the group, One seems not much older than myself.  
"This is, Harris.." Harper points to the man engaged in the book, he has curly ginger hair and a pair of spectacles are perched on his nose. "Hagman.." A man with a gaunt face and long hair, tied back with a red ribbon "And Perkins." The youngest one, not much older than if not the same age as myself.  
"You may as well join us." Harris comments, looking up from his book "Sharpe's gone to meet with the boss."  
Sharpe? That name rings a bell...I must have heard it before.  
Harper sits down on a stool and warms his hands on the fire.  
"Well, you gonna sit or stand there like a prat?" Hagman asks, but he has a smile on his face   
"I uhh...I-" I clear my throat   
"If you were waiting for a invitation you'll be there all night." Perkins comments.  
I take my pack off my back and sit down on the floor  
"Whats your name?" Harris asks  
"Thomas, Sir, Evan Thomas."   
"You really don't have to call us Sirs." Perkins seems amused "How long since you joined up?"  
"About a month, I think s-"  
I almost say Sir but stop myself   
"I think so...Maybe more, its hard to keep track of time."  
I notice the book Harris is reading  
"Whats that you've got there?"  
"Oh this?" He tilts the book up, But I can't make out the title in the fire light "The Iliad.."  
I smile, I did not expect someone to be reading that...I haven't read it since father tried to teach me the original Greek...but settled for me reading the translation.  
"Ah...its a good one."   
"You've read it?"  
I suddenly feel all eyes on me, of course, It isn't normal for a random solider to know classical literature is it?  
"My Father....he tried to teach me Greek.." I laugh nervously "It didn't take."  
I look at the embers of the fire, hoping they don't ask me anything more, If I was well off enough to be taught Greek by rights I should be a officer...  
I hear footsteps.  
"Sargent Major Harper, Major Sharpe wishes to meet the new recruit."  
I stare into the embers even more, hoping some how it'll whisk me away.  
How do I interact with a Major? A officer?  
I know how a lady would, curtsy, offer hand, make small talk...leave the room when serious topics come up.  
How does a man do it?  
"Well, come on Lad, don't wanna keep him waiting."  
Suppose I'm about to find out.


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan meets Major Sharpe, and reflects on the past.

Chapter two.  
"Stay here." Harper orders as we stop outside of a tent.  
I nod and stand to attention, This tent is further away from the others, a notion perhaps of what sort of man this Major Sharpe is?  
Will he be like Mitchell? Quick with a punishment for the lightest insult?  
Or will he be like Harper?  
I hope the latter, I don't think I'll survive another man like Mitchell.  
I grip the rifle Harper had given me, We marched without one to the camp, I like the weight in my hands.  
The tent opens and Harper returns, followed by another man.  
Not quite what I expected, he looks like every other solider, blond hair that goes to just past his ears, slight stubble on his chin, his uniform is well kept but has indeed seen some battle.  
Nothing like the prissy officer I imagined.  
He seems rough around the edges, Not like any man I've met before, yet he also has a certain air to him that means I can't look away.  
"Harper, you're telling me Mitchell reckons this boy is his best man?"  
I keep my eyes front, not wanting to give the wrong impression by answering for Harper.  
"He reckons he's Mitchell's best man, said so himself."  
Sharpe walks in front of me, he's taller than me and I can definitely say I would not stand a chance in a fight against him.  
"Name?"  
"Thomas, sir."  
I feel uneasy as his eyes scan my uniform, If anyone could see through this disguise I dare say it would be him.  
"Is that your first or last name?"  
"Last Sir." I pause "My first name is Evan, Sir."  
"So...Thomas." He stands in front of me and stares at me for a long period, his eyes are a dark brown, he has a scar below his left eye.   
I try not to meet his gaze, truly fearful he'll see the real me.  
"You think your a good enough shot to join my regiment, do you?"  
"I don't know sir...I wasn't even aware you had a regiment until Sargent Major Harper collected me, sir."   
Sharpe smiles, ever so slightly   
"Cocky little bastard, aint you?"  
Harper laughs   
"Not at all sir." I pause "I was answering your question."   
I expect the punch or kick, or whatever it is Officers do to men who talk back, but instead, Sharpe takes a step back.  
"I see now why Mitchell dislikes you." Harper observes   
"I give respect to those who deserve it, Major Sargent...not those who feel entitled to it."   
Sharpe and Harper exchange a look and Harper walks towards me  
"Follow me."  
Harper starts walking and I follow, I am more than aware of Sharpe walking behind me.  
We walk in total silence for a few minutes, all though it seems like forever.   
Harper stops, we're in a feild, I notice there's targets set up a few meters away.  
Its a shooting range, a test to see if I am as good as I claim.  
"Lets see how good you really are." Sharpe stands by my side "When you're ready."  
Harper walks up the field towards the targets.  
"Yes sir.."  
I prepare my rifle, To my surprise my hands aren't shaking as I open the powder.  
Without thinking I load the rifle and fire, I do it three times and by the end of it there's soot on my hands and perhaps a little on my face.  
"Not bad.." Sharpe observes as Harper returns to us.  
"You must've shot before all this...no way is this your first time using a rifle." Harper seems impressed "Three bulls eyes."  
"As I child I learnt archery."  
The stable boys at Father's plantation and I used to go out and hunt rabbits with crude bows and arrows, it was a lot of fun, Most of the time the hunted animals would go to the servants, Father always made sure they were well cared for.  
"You can speak Greek and learnt archery?" Harper chuckles "You're a odd one Thomas."  
"No matter how you learnt to shoot, you're damn good at it." Sharpe turns his full attention to me and once again I feel like he can see right through me "Welcome to the 58th rifles..Don't make me regret this."  
"Thank you sir..." I smile "You won't sir...I assure you."  
X  
I sit in my new cot, its dark outside, my lamp is casting moving shadows on the walls of the tent, I managed to escape after dinner, the rest of Sharpe's men enjoy a drink and I was feeling overwhelmed.  
I take off my boots and undress for the night, its a dangerous time, of course in order to breath at night I must loosen the binding that hides my breasts, I've realised that if I wear a undershirt thats oversized at first glance you can't notice anything out of place.  
The idea is to cover up before anyone pays to much attention, I wear drawers under my trousers, so my nightwear is just my under clothes.  
I do miss my flowing nightgowns, they're about the only piece of women's clothing I do miss.  
The grass feels nice under my bare feet as I brush out my hair, I am almost convinced that the few times someone has seen me with my hair loose, They think I'm just a very pretty boy.  
Because of course, which is more likely, I'm a very pretty boy or a woman who's bribed herself into the army?  
The only problem facing me now is the 58th rifles are a very close knit group, It'll be harder for me to slip away when I need too.  
Thankfully, as morbid as it may seem, When I lost my child, I lost along with it, the means to conceive again, Mother nature has not struck me since that day or left me due to the fact Bagby kept me half starved.  
Which, I thought was a curse but now I see it as a blessing, it is a lot easier to pretend to be a man when you don't leave blood staining your bed clothes.  
I check the time on my pocket watch, almost eleven o'clock.  
I smile, opposite the face of the clock is a small sketch of Mother, Older than myself, somehow it still looks vibrant.  
As I get older I see myself looking more and more like her, we could be twins, the only difference is she had flaming red hair.  
I wonder what would have happened had she lived, would we still be India? Would I have had a happier childhood than what I had in Scotland?  
Would I still have been married off to Bagby?  
Mother and Father married for love, I know that much...but the plantation was in bad shape.  
No, Mother and Father would never allowed me to be married off simply for the money.  
Then again...what other choices did I have?   
Marry for love?   
That seems out of the question now, either I'll die in this war or I'll go home.  
I can never return to being Evangeline Higgs.  
Because she's mad. Well, Evangeline Bagby.  
Good lord...that's who I am now isn't it? I'm the widow of that monster.  
Even worse, I'm the...killer of that monster.  
I feel like my heart has stopped in my chest, I hadn't thought about that night I left the estate until now, Been to busy creating my new identity.  
I murdered him.  
And now, I can aim a rifle, a instrument of death..  
Am I designed for murder? Is it just a second nature to me?  
I sigh and lie back in the cot, Pulling my blanket over myself.  
My abdomen stings, the bruise is making a appearance for certain.  
I close my eyes, no use dwelling on past mistakes, no matter how bad they may be. I'm here, I've got to focus.


End file.
